


My Son

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A future Bog King is born...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Son

“AAAHH, DAMMIT!  _BRIAR_ , I’M GONNA _RIP_ YOUR HEAD OUT THROUGH YOUR _ASSHOLE_!”

“Griselda, maybe I should jus’ wait outsi-”

“ **DON’T YOU _FUCKIN’_ MOVE**!!!”

Briar winced as his wife bore down and squeezed his hand with all her might.  He wasn’t worried about getting any fingers broken; his Griselda was tough, but nowhere near that strong.

“Keep pushing, my queen!”  The midwife instructed as her assistant dabbed at Griselda’s head with a wet rag.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAH!  I _HATE_ YOU, BRIAR!  WE ARE _NEVER_ HAVING SEX AGAIN!!!”

.

.

.

Course, that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like the bloody devil, but he wisely kept that comment to himself.  He knew he really had no room to complain.

The past almost two years had been a veritable _nightmare_ for the Briar King and _especially_ his beloved queen.  The couple had been trying for nearly a decade to conceive, almost giving up hope, but when the midwife had given them the delightful news, even as ecstatic as they were, they had to take it with a grain of salt. 

It was no secret that the previous queen’s pregnancy had been a tremendously difficult one, almost claiming her life, and she was three times Griselda’s size in her prime.  Complications during the birth made it impossible for the late Vinca to ever have another child, and the likelihood of the same result for Griselda was pretty much guaranteed.

That was of course, _if_ she survived the delivery. 

“SON OF A BITCH!  THIS KID IS _TEARING_ ME APART!!!”

Griselda’s pregnancy had proved to be at least as strenuous as Vinca’s, if not _worse_.

Mood swings as erratic and formidable as a mountain range.  Being practically immobilized by the added weight gain.  Paralyzing aches and crushing fatigue.  Vomiting up everything if someone so much as _spelled_ the word ‘food’.  Waking up at all hours of the night, clutching her stomach and screaming in pain.  It got so bad, she eventually had to spend the last four months bedridden.  They’d lost count of how many miscarriage scares they’d had by now.

As for Briar, he’d been more surly and impatient than usual, because he felt so damn _useless_!  And there was nothing he hated _more_ than that feeling!  His mate was suffering and he couldn’t do _anything_ to ease her burden or stop it altogether. 

Though he would never admit it out loud, underneath the instinctual joy of learning he was to be a father, he’d been more _terrified_ than anything else.  Not just for Griselda’s health, but also because of the dangerously high chance that the baby would _look_ like him.  Every night, for the last twenty-three months, he’d prayed to a Creator whose existence he’d questioned countless times, for his child to be spared his hideous features; so he or she would not be shunned, ridiculed, or despised. 

He’d already been cursed with his father’s face and winged body.  He wanted _nothing_ of that _monster_ to _touch_ what he and Griselda had made together from _real_ love.  

“I see the head!”  The midwife suddenly exclaimed, and Briar’s heart leapt to his throat.

“GRRRRR!  IS IT A BABY OR A FUCKING _PINECONE_?!”

“Um......er……just…keep pushing, your majesty!  It’s almost here!”

_Please.  I beg you, Creator.  Let it have its mother’s hair, her horns, her skin, her shape.  Dorn’t let it look like me!_

Then he heard it.  The piercing wail of a newborn goblin entering the blinding, cold, open world. 

Briar couldn’t breathe nor move as he listened to the sound of his child; he couldn’t even see it as the midwife rushed away to clean it off while her assistant worked to stop his wife’s bleeding.

He was a _father_.

When Griselda’s hand went limp in his own, Briar snapped out of his stasis and leaned down to brush her hair back from her sweaty brow.  She was so exhausted, but her obsidian eyes blinked up at him, and he felt a wave of calm envelop him at the core. 

_My anchor._

_My strength._

“Did I…do good…Briar?”

“Ye were _amazin’_.”

“I…didn’t mean…what I-”

“I know.”

The few minutes it took for the midwife to wash and soothe the fussing infant were the longest in Briar’s recollection, and he anxiously ground his teeth the whole time.  Dreading that his wish would not be granted. 

“It’s……I _think_ it’s a...uh…...a _boy_!”

Griselda’s excited gasp synchronized perfectly with the flutter in Briar’s chest.

_A boy._

_A son._

_My son._

“Gimme my baby!”  Griselda ordered, slapping the bedsheets and grinning from ear to ear. 

Finished with the Briar Queen, the assistant hurried to the midwife’s side as she turned.

“Your m-majesties,” the midwife said, awkwardly stepping up to them with a small, wriggling form in her arms, obscured by her cloak, “…the…B-Briar Prince.”

She withdrew the cloak, and Briar’s stomach dropped like a rock.

Immediately, Griselda reached for the child with a mother’s greedy hands, and the midwife seemed a bit _too_ eager to pass the infant over. 

“Hello, my precious little boy!”  She cooed, pressing her cheek to her baby’s head and rocking him back and forth. 

When she pulled back to gaze over every inch of him, there were glittering tears streaming down her face. 

“Oh, Briar!”  She sobbed, bringing one of the infant’s clawed hands to her lips for a kiss.  “He looks just like _you_!”

The king’s entire body was ice cold.  Most fathers would be overflowing with pride at such a statement, but not him.  He just stood there, silently cursing the Creator in despair. 

The child didn’t just look like him, he was the _spitting_ image!

Briar wanted to slam his fist into the wall and swear in every dialect he knew.  That loathsome monster would never die!  Even from beyond the grave, he haunted Briar and infected his son with that beastly appearance!  He knew what this would mean now.  He’d experienced it firsthand, and now it was paving his only child’s future: 

Constant staring…

…whispers…

…pointing…

…insults…

…distrust…

…rejection…

…loneliness…

…pain…

.

.

.

… ** _misery_**.

“-six, seven, eight, nine, ten!  _Ten_ perfectly clawed little fingers and toes!”

His dismal thoughts were broken by the cheerful voice of his wife, gushing over their son.  He watched as she tickled his chin and chest, giggling like a maiden in spring.  The pure, gentle warmth in her eyes and heartfelt smile, had him spellbound.  Unlike his own mother, Griselda’s emotions were not manipulated by a lying cloud of pink dust.  She _adored_ him and their baby, down to the last abnormality. 

He was a fool.  A giant, paranoid, pessimistic, fool.  His promise remained firm: this child would live a far better life than his own.  His queen was living proof that there was genuine love and kindness to be found in this forest, even for a being as ugly as he was.  He would shelter him, train him, do his best to show what affection he could.  Yes, it would be an unfeasable challenge to keep his son from being hurt by the ignorant cruelty of others, but his home would  _always_ be safe.

 _My boy will never cower from a monster in thah shadows of his own castle, afraid tah draw breath, like I once did._   

“Do you wanna meet your daddy?”  Griselda whispered, nuzzling the baby’s forehead.  “Let’s say ‘hi’ to daddy!” 

Briar’s gut twisted as his wife shifted towards him.  He’d been mentally preparing for this moment since the announcement.  So why did he feel so anxious and weak?  This was ridiculous!  He was the Briar King, he could handle an infant!  Still, he fisted his hands to keep them from shaking as Griselda held the prince out to him.

“Here, Briar.  Come hold your son.”

The room was suddenly sweltering, and Briar’s arms felt tingly and brittle, making him swallow a dry growl.  He couldn’t _stand_ feeling this helpless! 

_Do it, ye damn coward!  Do wha’ that bastard NEVER did fer yoo!_

With startling quickness, Briar scooped up the child under its arms, and held him to his face like a miner examining a large fossil or rare ore.  The moss blanket he'd been wrapped in, slid off to the floor.  

“Um, Briar?”

Either he didn’t hear her concerned address, or chose to ignore it so he could concentrate on logic over panic as he at last, got a clear, close look at his son for the first time.

He was a scrawny, wee bairn.  Even with the baby fat, Briar could see the beginnings of his prominent facial features.  The four, slight stubs he could feel on his back, meant that he would grow wings after a handful of molts.  And though they were nowhere near detailed nor hard enough to serve as true armor yet, the scales on his tiny body were rough to the touch.  He was no normal goblin; not by a long shot.  Griselda couldn’t have been more right.

_He looks EXACTLY like me!_

Briar had never had much experience with sympathy in his life, but now it was stabbing him like an arrow dipped with numbing poison.  This poor, innocent boy.  Tainted, as his father was, by a _demon_ from hell.

 _Stop it_. 

He had _killed_ the monster _ages_ ago. 

_He can’t affect me, nor my son unless I allow it._

Breathing deep to steady himself, Briar did what he used to do when he thought about how much he _loathed_  that monster.    

_Focus on thah differences._

He looked at the squirming baby again, and this time, he could see that, unlike the monster’s ghost white, or his own cockroach brown, the newborn’s scales were of a brownish grey tone, resembling long-dead leaves on the ground in a snowless winter.  His jaw didn’t jut out so far, making his head appear more oval and less crescent moon in comparative shape.  His ears were a tad smaller, and his chest didn’t seem quite as broad as his own in proportion to his narrower waist, but Briar could tell that the child would grow to be at least as tall, if not _more_ so than him. The skin of his face…

…was his _mother’s_!  Soft and pale! 

Briar almost chuckled in triumph, but froze when, at that _precise_ moment, his son opened his eyes and he found himself gazing into the most shocking pair of crystal blue orbs nature had ever conceived.

Not acid green, and not even his kinder aqua.

Different.

Blue.

Like the summer sky or sapphire gemstones.  Not a common color among ordinary goblins, by any means, but…

…absolutely _beautiful_.    

So there they were.  The differences.  From not only the monster, but himself as well.  Perhaps, everything was going to be alright, after all.    

The encouraging revelation was broken by the sound of hushed voices.

Huddled together in the corner, stood the midwife and her assistant; whispering to each other and glancing back and forth between freakish parent and offspring.  Briar knew that glint in their eyes better than anyone.

Judgement. 

_And so it begins._

The child whimpered and a wave of fatherly protection consumed Briar like a flame, and he snarled at the two of them in anger.

“GET _OUT_!”

_Get away from my son!_

The ladies jumped in fright and swiftly bolted for the door.

“Thank you for all your help!”  Griselda called after them with an apologetic shrug, though she too had seen the way they were looking at her baby, and was honestly pleased to see them gone.

Still scowling, Briar turned back to his son and his shoulder plates rattled with determination.

_Insolent vipers!  From this day on, my boy, I swear I will teach ye everythin’ I know.  I will show ye how tah rise above scum like tha’ an’ strike FEAR intah all o' their hearts.  Tah fight like a warrior!  Tah rule with an iron fist!  They’ll all bend tah yer will!  Ye’ll become thah greatest king this Dark Forest has ever seen!  I’ll make ye-!_

His mental prophecy was cut off by the baby’s sudden high-pitched squalling.

.

.

.

“Stop that.”  Briar said, giving the infant a disgruntled glare.  “I said, _stop_ it!”

Of course, his order was _loudly_  unheeded, but before he could say anything else, he was intercepted by his wife’s cackling.

“What’s so _funny_?”

“Oh my  _Lord_ , Briar!   _Really_?”  Griselda laughed.  “You can’t  _command_  him not to cry.  He’s a  _baby_!  Babies _cry_ ; it’s kinda their thing.”

“W-Well...I...” Briar stammered before recovering with a petulant huff.  “I dorn’t like it!  Make 'im  _stop_!”

She sighed at her husband with an indulgent smirk, and held out her arms.

“Give him here.”

Briar instantly surrendered the kicking, bawling infant to its mother and frowned at him in a way that one might dare describe as pouting.

“Why thah devil was ‘e cryin’ anyway?  I wasnae hurtin’ ‘im.”

“Well for one thing, you were holding him wrong, ya goon.  You don’t hold babies like a radish, you hold ‘em like _this_.”    

She demonstrated by gently cradling their child between her chest and right arm, supporting his head with the crook of her left elbow.

“But I’ll bet the _main_ reason is ‘cause he’s just _hungry_.”

Annoyed, Briar crossed his arms as his wife quietly shushed the baby and reached for the preset bowl of shredded frog meat on the bedside table. 

“Shh, shh.”  Griselda murmured, pinching off a small, raw chunk and bringing it to the infant’s lips.  “Now, now, it’s okay, sweetheart.  Mommy’s gotcha.  Come on now, here we go!”

The child sniffed the food through his tears and snatched it away with his little mouth.  Thankfully, there was no danger of being injured by a bite yet.  Though sharp, his fangs would be too tiny to break through leathery goblin skin until he was much older.

“Yeah, now _that’s_ my little pinecone.”  Griselda praised, giving him another piece, which he eagerly took.  “Heh, look at _you_!  Such a good eater!  You gonna grow up to be big and strong like your daddy, hmm?  Oh, yes you are!”

Briar knelt beside the bed and observed in silence as his son ate his fill.  The stain of blood on the baby’s lips, filled him with goblin pride, but the guilt of giving his wife a child that would face so many hardships because of his physical traits was omnipresent.  It was all his fault. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, dear?”

“I’m sorry that ‘e looks like me.”

“…”

_THWACK!_

“Ouch!” 

Briar jerked back, rubbing his nose where Griselda had smartly flicked him with her pointer finger.

“That is the _stupidest_ thing I’ve ever heard you say!”  She grouched, curling defensively over their son, who was starting to doze off.  “ _I’m_ certainly not sorry he looks like you!  I’m glad, cuz I only think you’re the most handsome male that’s ever _lived_!  _He_ is _perfect_ , and he’s _mine_!  All mine!”

At a complete loss for words, Briar just stared at her.  What had he ever done to deserve this feisty saint?  Somehow, she always knew when to, not-so-subtly, give him the hint that he was being an ass and needed to straighten up.  She’d accepted him _and_ their son, and that was all that mattered. 

They were a family now.  An absurdly odd family, but a real one nonetheless. 

To hell with everyone else. 

It was going to be fine. 

“Heh, all _yers_ , eh?  Well, I dorn’t see much resemblance, woman.  Pretty sure he’s go’ more o’ _my_ biology.”

“Psh!  Who cares about the pesky details?  I called dibs.”

“Ye can’t call dibs on a baby, ye looney!”

“Can too!  I’m the Briar Queen, so dibs!  Nya!”  She stuck her tongue out at her husband and then cuddled their napping child.  “Oh, I love him so much, I’m never gonna let him outta my sight!  Never, never, _never_!”  

Briar smirked and shook his head at her antics.  For a long while, neither spoke, just enjoyed watching their baby sleep peacefully.  Eventually, a thought occurred to Briar and he reached over and nudged his son’s hand with his finger.  Automatically, but thankfully without waking, the child gripped the bony digit with his tiny fist.    

“Bog.”

“Huh?”  Griselda looked up at Briar in question.  “What, honey?”

“I wanna name 'im Bog.”

“Oh?  Hmm......Bog.  Any reason why you picked that name in particular?”

“…”

“…”

“…I’ve……never told anyone this, but…………when I was a lad…about six years old……I tried tah run away from home.  I didnae know where I was goin’…I jus’ wanted tah get away from my father.  I kept goin’ ‘til well after dark an’ I collapsed.  I could tell from thah putrid stench around me tha’ I was in a bog, but I was too tired tah go any further.  When I came to……I saw thah sunrise.  I’d never seen thah dawn before.  I fergot all about thah awful smell.  It was so bright an’ so _colorful_.  Thah light reflected off thah water an’ thah plants; it was like seein' a dreamland…………tha’ was……thah first time……I can remember…bein’……………truly happy.   I want……I want _him_ tah…represent tha’ memory…because……I’ve never been happier…than I am righ' now.”

Overwhelmed, Griselda leaned over and gave her husband a tender kiss.

“I think that’s a wonderful name for him.  I love you.”

“...Ye, too.  Thank ye, luv.”

Beaming with contentment, the Briar Queen stroked her baby’s head and pecked his nose. 

“Sleep tight, _Bog_.  Mommy and daddy will be here when you wake up.”

And they were; for every morning thereafter.


End file.
